The Tales of A Young Wizard: Sorcerer's Stone
by Isabelle'Potter123
Summary: What if Harry loved to mess with the minds of the unsuspecting public? What if he loved to do the opposite of what he should, just to get a rise out of people? And what if Harry shattered the expectations that everyone had had of him?
1. Harry Potter: SmartAss Extraordinaire

_What if Harry loved to mess with the minds of the unsuspecting public? What if he loved to do the opposite of what he should, just to get a rise out of people? And what if Harry shattered the expectations that everyone had had of him? This is what might have happened._

CHAPTER ONE

Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their nephew on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys' front door; it crept into their living room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls.

Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-colored bonnets – but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a carousel at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother.

The room held no sign at all that another boy lived in the house, too. Yet Harry Potter was still there, asleep at the moment, but not for long. His Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise of the day. "Up! Get up! Now!"Harry woke with a start. His aunt rapped on the door again. "Up!" she screeched.

"Shut the hell up, I'm getting up!" A grumpy Harry yelled through the door.

"What did you say to me you ungrateful brat?" Petunia screeched angrily.

"Aww, what a nice thing to call me, compliments will get you everywhere." Harry said sarcastically, neatly confusing his aunt and dodging the question. Harry heard her walking toward the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove.

He rolled onto his back and half-heartedly tried to remember the dream from the previous night. But he soon gave it up as a bad job, if he hadn't been able to remember it the last hundred times he had dreamt it, then he probably wasn't going to remember it now.

His aunt was back outside the door. "Are you up yet?" she demanded.

"No, I'm still sleeping, come back in five minutes and try to wake me up." Harry replied, he was always angry in the morning but he was angry in the afternoon and night as well so this was a normal occurrence.

"Don't sass me boy, hurry it up and come watch the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Dudley's birthday."

"Oh darn, how could I forget Dudder's widdle birthday, you've only mentioned it a few thousand times since his last birthday." Harry said.

"What did you say?" Petunia snapped through the door.

"Oh I'm sorry, maybe you should turn your hearing aid up." Harry shot back. He knew he was pushing it but he also knew that he didn't care.

Harry got slowly out of bed and started looking for socks. He found a pair under his bed and, after pulling a spider off one of them, put them on. Harry was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where he slept.

When he was dressed he went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley's birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had gotten the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike.

Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a mystery to Harry, as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise - unless of course it involved punching somebody. Dudley had once liked to use Harry as a punching bag but Harry had put an end to _that _rather quickly. Let's just say that the only food Dudley will never eat again is peanut butter, which is no longer kept in the house.

Harry dodged his aunt's hand flying toward him. Harry didn't look it, but he was very fast. Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Harry had always been small and skinny for his age.

He would have looked even smaller and skinnier than he really was if he had been to wear old clothes of Dudley's, and Dudley was about four times bigger than he was. But Harry was smart and had threatened to inform the Child Service's and so the Dursleys had reluctantly bought him new clothes.

Harry had a thin face, knobby knees, black hair, and bright green eyes. He had horrible eyesight and had once worn huge round glasses that were so inconvenient. One mention of the Child Services and Harry now wore clear contacts to show off his bright green eyes.

The only things that Harry liked about his own appearance were his eyes and a very thin scar on his forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning. He had had it as long as he could remember, and the first question he could ever remember asking his Aunt Petunia was how he had gotten it.

She had told him cock and bull story about how he had gotten it in the car accident that his parents had died in, but he knew it was a lie. How would he, a mere baby at the time, survive a _car accident, _when his fully grown adult parents didn't?

That hadn't gone over well and Petunia had avoided the question every time Harry had asked it, which was often. She also always told him to not ask question. Don't ask questions - that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys. However, Harry liked to think that rules were merely suggestions, so he made it his mission in life to question everything.

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was turning over the bacon. "Comb your hair!" he barked, by way of a morning greeting. About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Harry needed a haircut.

Harry must have had more haircuts than the rest of the boys in his class put together, but it made no difference, his hair simply grew that way - all over the place. And of course, because it annoyed his relatives, Harry urged his hair to grow and to his amazement, it did.

The Dursleys never figured out that the money they gave him for a haircut every week was actually put under the floor board in his cupboard; there was a lot of money stashed in there.

Harry was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel—Harry always loudly proclaimed that Dudley's children would be smited for being so ugly.

Harry put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasn't much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.

"Thirty-six," he said, looking up at his mother and father.

"That's two less than last year."

"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, its here under this big one from Mommy and Daddy."

"All right, thirty-seven then," said Dudley, going red in the face.

Harry, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, smirked and said, "its okay Dudley, it's not like your parents are going… poor." Poor was the one taboo word that was never to be spoken in the Dursley house, that and for some reason _magic_.

Vernon was going a deep shade of red but let it go as he preferred to pretend he didn't have a nephew and let Petunia deal with the boy.

Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger, too, because she said quickly, "And we'll buy you another two presents while we're out today. How's that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right?'' Harry refrained from laughing but mouthed "popkin" and rolled his eyes at the display of spoiled-try.

Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally he said slowly, "So I'll have thirty... Thirty... "

"Thirty-nine, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia.

"Oh."Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then."

'Wow, this is the influence I'm being raised under.' Harry thought to himself with a sliver of disgust.

Uncle Vernon chuckled. "Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. 'Atta boy, Dudley!" He ruffled Dudley's hair.

Harry snorted. "Little? Dudley hasn't been little since… ever." He said. He grinned as he saw it take a real effort for Vernon to ignore him. Harry took every opportunity to try to force his Uncle into acknowledging him, just to see what would happen. Harry couldn't remember a single time when his uncle had actually spoken to him directly, except to tell him to comb his hair; that was really yelled in his general direction rather than to him so technically it didn't count.

At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while Harry and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR.

He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried. Harry grinned in anticipation; anything that made his aunt both angry and worried was always good news for him.

"Bad news, Vernon," she said. "Mrs. Figg's broke her leg. She can't take him." She jerked her head in Harry's direction.

"Excuse me, _Him_ has a name." Harry interjected indignantly, though it was of course, faked.

Dudley's mouth fell open in horror, but Harry's formed a wide evil smirk. Every year on Dudley's birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger restaurants, or the movies.

Every year, Harry was left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away. Harry hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made him look at photographs of all the cats she'd ever owned.

Like why the hell should he give a damn about those smelly ass cats?

"Now what?"Said Aunt Petunia. She looked furiously at Harry as though he'd planned this whole thing. He hadn't of course; if he had it would've involved blowing something up, his specialty.

Harry knew he ought to feel sorry that Mrs. Figg had broken her leg, but she wasn't really a priority in his life now.

"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested.

"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy." Petunia said quickly.

"I'm not exactly fond of her either you know." Harry interrupted; he finally got a reaction from his aunt.

"Will you shut up with your constant talking?" She snapped angrily, Harry grinned and she suddenly groaned; now he would try even harder to give her a hard time.

The Dursleys often spoke about Harry like this, as though he wasn't there - or rather, as though he was something very nasty that couldn't understand them, like a slug, but Harry never stood for that and made it a priority to make his presence known whenever he entered a room they were in.

"What about what's-her-name, your friend, Yvonne?"

"On vacation in Majorca," snapped Aunt Petunia.

"You could just leave me here," Harry put in hopefully. If they did he'd be able to kip over to downtown and buy those fireworks that he wanted to experiment with.

Aunt Petunia looked as though she'd just swallowed a lemon. "And come back and find the house in ruins?" she snarled.

"I won't blow up the house again, that was only that one time, yeesh." said Harry, they _always _brought that up. Honestly, you blow up the bathroom one time and they never let it go.

"I suppose we could take him to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly, "... And leave him in the car... "

"But I could die in there!" Harry said, dramatically horrified. He looked offended when he could see them considering the idea even more instead of less. Screw them.

"That car's new; he's not sitting in it alone..." Vernon said quickly shaking himself out of daydreams about life without his nephew.

"And I could die! Why I never…" Harry said indignantly as Petunia shushed him.

Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn't really crying - it had been years since he'd really cried but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted.

'_If they fall for that I am going to bang my head against the wall._' Harry thought as he watched his cousin fake-sob with disgust and shame that he was related to the whale.

"Dinky Duddydims, don't cry, Mummy won't let him spoil your special day!" she cried, flinging her arms around him. Or at least she tried to; he was much too big for her to fit her arms completely around him.

Harry stared at her in mild disbelief before turning to the nearest wall and banging his head against it once.

"I... Don't... Want... Him... T-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. "He always sp-spoils everything!" He shot Harry a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms.

"I… Don't… Want… Me… T-t-to go either!" Harry mocked, his eyes even glistened a bit but as usual his aunt and uncle tried very hard to ignore him.

Just then, the doorbell rang, "Oh, good Lord, they're here!" said Aunt Petunia frantically, and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat.

For some reason, every time Harry thought of the fat-faced boy he was filled with indescribable anger, he simply did not like the boy at all. Maybe it was because he was usually the one who held people's arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them. Not that Harry cared about other people but that was low, even in Harry's books. Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once.

Half an hour later, Harry, who couldn't believe his rotten luck, was sitting in the back of the Dursleys' car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo for the first time in his life. No amount of pleading and begging would change the Dursleys' minds about him staying home alone.

His aunt and uncle hadn't been able to think of anything else to do with him, but before they'd left, Uncle Vernon had finally broken and had taken Harry aside.

"I'm warning you," he had said, putting his large purple face right up close to Harry's, "I'm warning you now, boy, any funny business, anything at all, and you'll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas."

"Yes, because I make funny business happen on purpose just for the sake of annoying you." Harry drawled back. Vernon had growled and went back to ignoring Harry's existence.

The odd thing was that Uncle Vernon believed him. No one usually did. The problem, which in Harry's opinion wasn't actually a problem for _him,_ was strange things often happened around him. It was just no good trying to annoy the Dursleys by telling them that he'd made them happen, because they already believed he did without his prompting.

Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry coming back from the barbers looking as though he hadn't been at all,(because he never did go) had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut his hair so short he was almost bald except for his bangs, which she left 'to hide that horrible scar.'

Harry almost shaved that part off but thought he might as well liven up school with his new haircut. Dudley had laughed himself silly at Harry, not realizing that Harry didn't give two fucks what anyone thought about him.

Next morning, however, he had gotten up to find his hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off. He had been given a week in his cupboard for this, surprisingly he hadn't been given more even though he had tried to explain that he could explain how it had grown back so quickly.

Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force him into a revolting old sweater of Dudley's (brown with orange puff balls). The harder she tried to pull it over his head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a hand puppet, but certainly wouldn't fit Harry. Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and Harry had decided that his aunt was a complete and utter idiot.

On the other hand, he'd gotten into terrible trouble for being found on the roof of the school kitchens. He'd tried to explain that he simply wanted to see the world from a different perspective but the Dursleys were convinced that it had something to do with his freakiness.

The Dursleys had received a very angry letter from Harry's headmistress telling them Harry had been climbing school buildings but for some reason they hadn't believed her.

But today, nothing was going to go wrong. And Harry was sure he had just jinxed himself and grinned with anticipation, he had a feeling that today was going to be good.

It was even worth being with Dudley and Piers to be spending the day causing chaos wherever he went and unleashing it on the unsuspecting public.

While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. He liked to complain about things: people at work, Harry, the council, Harry, the bank, and Harry were just a few of his favorite subjects. Harry had a feeling that his uncle liked to complain about him a lot but that just made him happier.

This morning, it was motorcycles. "... Roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," he said, as a motorcycle overtook them.

Harry of course had to provoke his Uncle so he said, "I had a dream about a motorcycle. It was flying."

Harry grinned and tried to smile innocently as his Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. He turned right round in his seat and yelled at Harry, his face like a gigantic beet with a mustache: "MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY!" Dudley and Piers were both sniggering.

"Are you a mechanic? No, didn't think so. You don't know what flies or not. You're just jealous because you can't fly." Harry replied and huffed, sitting back in his seat. Dudley, Piers, and Petunia were staring at him in shock while it seemed that he had broken his Uncle.

But he wished he had said something like that sooner. If there was one thing the Dursleys hated even more than his asking questions, it was his talking about anything acting in a way it shouldn't, no matter if it was in a dream or even a cartoon; they seemed to think he might get dangerous ideas. Which he did of course.

It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance. Then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked Harry what he wanted before they could hurry him away, they had tried to buy him a cheap lemon ice pop.

But he had quickly said he wanted the same thing that to the others boys had, only with sprinkles. To avoid causing suspicion, the Dursleys had grudgingly bought him what he asked for.

It wasn't bad either, Harry thought, licking it as they watched a gorilla scratching its head that looked remarkably like Dudley, except that it wasn't blond.

Harry had the best morning he'd had in a long time. He was careful to walk as close to the Dursleys so that he could annoy them further. Dudley and Piers, who were starting to get bored with the animals by lunchtime, were trying to avoid him and another incident with peanut butter.

They ate in the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbockers glory didn't have enough ice cream on top, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and Harry was allowed to get one as well so he wouldn't make a scene.

Harry felt, afterward, that he should have known when the chaos would start so he could've added to it. After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, Man-crushing pythons.

Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's car and crushed it into a trash can (which Harry would have paid all the money in the world to do himself), but at the moment it didn't look in the mood.

In fact, it was fast asleep. Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils.

"Make it move," he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn't budge.

"Do it again," Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on. Harry watched on in disappointed, he had hoped the snake would strike at the glass and scare the piss out of the two Dursley males.

"This is boring," Dudley moaned. He shuffled away. Harry moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. He wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself; no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long.

It was worse than having a cupboard as a bedroom, where the only visitor was Aunt Petunia hammering on the door to wake you up; at least he got to visit the rest of the house. Of course Harry felt sympathetic with the creature and began thinking of ways to free it, never mind that the snake could kill him in seconds.

The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Harry's. It winked. Harry stared. Then he looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching. They weren't and Harry pouted; how that would freak out someone if they saw him winking at a snake!

He looked back at the snake and winked, too. The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, and then raised its eyes to the ceiling as if rolling his eyes. It gave Harry a look that said quite plainly: "I get that all the time."

"I know," Harry murmured through the glass, though he wasn't sure the snake could hear him. "I get it too, annoying isn't it?"

The snake nodded vigorously. "Where do you come from, anyway?" Harry asked. The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Harry peered at it. Boa Constrictor, Brazil. "Was it nice there?" The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Harry read on: _This specimen was bred in the zoo._

"Well that must suck, huh?" The snake nodded. "How about if I let you out?" The snake stared at him and then twitched its body as if shrugging; Harry found this whole conversation very amusing.

A deafening shout from behind Harry made both of them jump and Harry let out a string of colorful curses.

"DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!" Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could, which wasn't very fast at all.

"Out of the way, you," he said, he tried to punch Harry in the ribs but he dodged and Dudley's fist connected with the glass. Harry glared at Dudley and wished the glass would disappear.

What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened. One second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next they had leapt back with howls of horror. Harry straightened up and jumped up with a cheer; the glass front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished.

The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits. As the snake slid swiftly past him, Harry could have sworn a low, hissing voice said, "Brazil, here I come... Thanksss, amigo."

"No problem, buddy." Harry quickly whispered back as he watched the snake disappear. The keeper of the reptile house was in shock. "But the glass," he kept saying, "where did the glass go?" The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea while he apologized over and over again.

Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As far as Harry had seen, the snake hadn't done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon's car, Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death.

"I sincerely wish it would have, it would have saved future generations the horror of seeing your offspring." But Dudley and Piers had only understood about half of what he had said; his sarcasm was wasted on them.

But funniest of all, to Harry at least, was Piers calming down enough to say, "Harry was talking to it, weren't you, Harry?"

"Of course I was who wouldn't want to talk to a giant man-eating snake on a beautiful Saturday such as this one?" Harry had replied cheerfully.

Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting on Harry. He was so angry he could hardly speak. He managed to say, "Go - cupboard - stay - no meals," before he collapsed into a chair and Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy.

Harry wasn't having that so he said, "I'm sure the child services would love to get a phone call from the poor abused starved orphan that lived in Number 4 Privet Drive." Harry said, deadly serious for once.

Vernon had sighed and took a deep breath, "Petunia, please handle your nephew." And then he went upstairs.

Harry lay in his dark cupboard much later, wishing he had a watch. He didn't know what time it was and he couldn't be sure the Dursleys were asleep yet. Until they were, he couldn't risk setting up some pranks in their breakfast chairs.

He'd lived with the Dursleys almost ten years, ten humorous years, as long as he could remember, ever since he'd been a baby and his parents had died. He couldn't remember being in the car when his parents had died.

Sometimes, when he strained his memory during long hours in his cupboard, he came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and a burning pain on his forehead. That was most certainly not from a car crash.

He couldn't remember his parents at all. His aunt and uncle never spoke about them, and of course he was forbidden to ask questions, not that that had stopped him from asking them anyway. There were no photographs of them in the house.

The Dursleys were his only family. Yet sometimes he thought (or maybe the attention whore in him hoped) that strangers in the street seemed to know him. Very strange strangers they were, too. A tiny man in a violet top hat had bowed to him once while out shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. After asking Harry furiously if he knew the man, Aunt Petunia had rushed them out of the shop without buying anything.

A wild-looking old woman dressed all in green had waved merrily at him once on a bus. A bald man in a very long purple coat had actually shaken his hand in the street the other day and then walked away without a word.

The weirdest thing about all these people was the way they seemed to vanish the second Harry tried to get a closer look. But Harry felt that something about them was very different from everyone else he had met.

At school, Harry had no one. Not because of Dudley and his gang, but because he was such an annoying smart-ass that no one could stand to be around him too long, not that he minded anyway. Harry liked who he was and he had no plans to change for anyone, ever.


	2. H Stands for Harry

_Last Chapter: At school, Harry had no one. Not because of Dudley and his gang, but because he was such an annoying smart-ass that no one could stand to be around him too long, not that he minded anyway. Harry liked who he was and he had no plans to change for anyone, ever._

Chapter Two

The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor was supposed to earn Harry his longest-ever punishment. Thanks to a department called the Child Services, Harry wandered around the house freely.

By the time he actually cared to go outside willingly, the summer holidays had started and Dudley had already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote control airplane, and, first time out on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.

Harry was glad school was over, but there was no baiting Dudley's gang, who avoided the house every single day. Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon were all big and stupid, but as Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of the lot, he was the leader. The rest of them were all quite happy to join in Dudley's favorite sport: Harry Hiding, which is where they hid from him instead of the other way around.

This was why Harry spent as much time as possible out of the house, wandering around and thinking about the end of the holidays, where he could see a tiny ray of hope. When September came he would be going off to secondary school and, for the first time in his life, he would have a new sea of students to harass and annoy.

Dudley had been accepted at Uncle Vernon's old private school, Smeltings. Piers Polkiss was going there too. Harry, on the other hand, was going to Stonewall High, the local public school. Dudley thought this was very funny, as did Harry.

"They stuff people's heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall," he told Harry. "Want to come upstairs and practice?"

"No, thanks," said Harry. "The poor toilets never had anything as horrible as your head down it, it might be sick." Then he stood there for an hour waiting for Dudley to work out what he'd said. That was time wasted.

One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving Harry at Mrs. Figg's. Mrs. Figg wasn't as bad as usual. It turned out she'd broken her leg tripping over one of her cats, and she didn't seem quite as fond of them as before. She let Harry watch television and gave him a bit of chocolate cake that tasted as though she'd had it for several years, which Harry fed to her cats to see what a hyper cat would do. That hadn't gone over well with Mrs. Figg.

That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand-new uniform. As things shook from Dudley's weight coming down on the floor, Harry loudly snickered and chuckled behind his hand. Smeltings' boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters.

They also carried knobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren't looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life.

"What are they training for? How to join a gang?" Of course no one had acknowledged Harry's question.

As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said she couldn't believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins, he looked so handsome and grown-up. Harry didn't trust himself to speak. He thought two of his ribs might already have cracked from laughing so hard. He was literally rolling on the floor laughing.

There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when Harry went in for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. He went to have a look. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in gray water.

"Wow Petunia, I knew you were a horrible cook but what the hell are you trying to feed us?" Harry had asked grumpily since he had just waked up. Aunt Petunia's lips tightened as they always did if he dared to ask a question.

"Your new school uniform," she said. Harry looked in the bowl again.

"I thought uniforms were for wearing, not for eating." Harry replied with a shrug. "I hope it's a good source of fiber."

"Don't be stupid, "snapped Aunt Petunia. "I'm dying some of Dudley's old things gray for you. It'll look just like everyone else's when I've finished." Harry seriously doubted this, and thought it best to point it out.

"I think it would look suspicious if I'm the only one at that school wearing those old rags, the Headmaster might even look into our 'family situation.' Harry said in his you-know-I've-just-won-so-give-up-now kind of way.

He sat down at the table and tried to imagine the looks he would get on his first day at Stonewall High, like he was wearing bits of old elephant skin, probably. The thought made Harry grin widely and give a creepy chuckle.

Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from Harry's new uniform. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table. They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat.

"Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.

"Make Harry get it."

"Get the mail, Harry."

"Make Dudley get it."

"Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley."

"Yes, please put the large stick within my reach so I can grab it and use it myself." Harry said sarcastically. Dudley held his stick tightly to his chest and whimpered. Harry rolled his eyes and went to get the mail.

Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill and - _a letter for Harry._

No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him. Who would want to write to a lunatic like him? He had no friends, no other relatives – he'd made sure to return all of his books on explosives on time, so he'd never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:

_Mr. H. Potter _

_The Cupboard under the Stairs_

_Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging_

_Surrey_

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp. Turning the envelope over, Harry saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H.

'_Yay, H stands for Harry, because I'm so wonderfully awesome of course._' Harry thought happily to himself. He quickly tore open the envelope and read the letter. When he was done there was a silent pause and then Harry snorted.

"Of course I'm a wizard, what else would I be?" Harry muttered sarcastically to himself.

"Hurry up, boy!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" He chuckled at his own horrible joke, while Harry groaned and wondered how he was related to these people.

Harry went back to the kitchen, still holding his letter. He handed Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard, sat down, and began to read the supply list inside. He was just finished reading the supply list when of course Dudley had to open his big mouth.

"Dad!" said Dudley suddenly. "Dad, Harry's got something!" Harry was on the point of refolding his letter, which was written on the same heavy parchment as the envelope, when Vernon tried to grab it. Harry, having always had abnormally quick reflexes, held out of his Uncle's reach.

"No, no, no Uncle Vernon, reading other peoples' mail is illegal. Besides, I already know I'm going to Hogwarts." As his Uncle turned an odd shade of red, Harry looked over Vernon's shoulder at Dudley and mouthed, "Peanut Butter." which made Dudley whimper and run from the room.

Within seconds Vernon's face had turned the grayish white of old porridge. "P-P-Petunia!" he gasped. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise. "Vernon! Oh my goodness. Vernon!" They stared at each while Harry made a gagging noise and rolled his eyes at their dramatics.

They seemed to have forgotten that Harry and Dudley were still in the room. Dudley wasn't used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick to get his attention.

"I want to read that letter," he said loudly. Harry glared at the fat boy and said, "Too bad brat, it's my letter and none of you can do anything about it so deal with it." Dudley just stared at him with wide-mouthed shock.

"Get out, both of you," croaked Uncle Vernon. Harry shrugged and got up to leave.

"Let me see it!" demanded Dudley. "OUT!" roared Uncle Vernon and he took Dudley by the scruff of his neck and threw him into the hall, slamming the kitchen door behind them.

Harry and Dudley promptly had a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Harry made one mention of peanut butter and Dudley backed down. So Harry, his green eye pressed against the keyhole, leaned against the door and watched the following conversation.

"Vernon, "Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, "did you get a look at the envelope?" Vernon shook his head.

"How could they possibly know we still live here? You don't think they're watching the house?"Petunia asked. She looked around the room as if she would spot some tall guy in a long trench coat and sunglasses.

"Watching…spying… might be following us," muttered Uncle Vernon wildly. Harry rolled his eyes again and muttered things to himself about retarded relatives, ignoring Dudley's frightened look.

"But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write them and tell them we don't want the boy to go? They can't let him into the school without our permission, can they? Whether or not he wants to go?"

Harry could see Uncle pacing up and down the kitchen.

"No," he said finally. "No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get an answer... yes, that's best... We won't do anything..." Harry wondered at how deep his aunt and uncle's stupidity ran and almost felt bad for Dudley having to share their genes.

"But -"

"I'm not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took him in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?" Vernon yelled. Suddenly Harry's eyes narrowed and the hallway's temperature seemed to drop about ten degrees.

'_Stamp it out of me, huh? We'll see about that, Dursley._' Harry thought coldly to himself.

That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he'd never done before; he visited Harry in his cupboard, not that he'd had an easy time trying to get through the doorway.

"What do you want, tubby?" Harry asked as soon as Vernon had opened the door.

"No need to keep that letter boy, it was addressed to you by mistake," said Uncle Vernon shortly.

"Of course it was a mistake, "said Harry, "it was just a coincidence that it had my cupboard on it."

"SILENCE!" yelled Uncle Vernon. Harry simply blinked and said, "Make me fatty." With a serious glare that made Vernon wish he could go back to the blissful days of ignoring his nephew.

He took a few deep breaths anyway and then forced his face into a smile, which looked quite painful. "Err …yes, Harry …about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking... You're really getting a bit big for it... We think it might be nice if you moved into Dudley's second bedroom."

"Oh finally realized how this house worked did you? I was waiting for something smart to pop into your brain, it was a long ten years but it finally happened congrats." Harry replied sarcastically cheerful.

"Don't sass me, boy!" snapped his uncle. "Take this stuff upstairs, now."

The Dursleys' house had four bedrooms: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually Uncle Vernon's horrid sister, Marge), one where Dudley slept, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that wouldn't fit into his first bedroom. It only took Harry a few trips upstairs to move everything he had forced his relatives to buy him from the cupboard to this room.

He sat down on the bed and stared around him. Nearly everything in here was broken; he'd have to fix that soon. The month-old video camera was lying on top of a small, working tank Dudley had once driven over the next door neighbor's dog; in the corner was Dudley's first-ever television set, which he'd put his foot through when his favorite program had been canceled.

There was a large birdcage, which had once held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at school for a real air rifle, which was up on a shelf with the end all bent because Dudley had sat on it. Other shelves were full of books. They were the only things in the room that looked as though they'd never been touched, which was good for Harry since he loved to read books, particularly ones that have explosives and fire in them. He had _slight _pyromaniac tendencies.

From downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother, "I don't want him in there... I need that room... Make him get out..." Harry sighed and rolled his eyes, for some reason he was no longer in the mood to laugh.

Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Dudley was in shock. He'd screamed, whacked his father with his Smelting stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, and he still didn't have his room back. Harry was wondering if he would have kids one day, what he would do to them if they ever behaved like Dudley.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly. When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to Harry, made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging things with his Smelting stick all the way down the hall.

Apparently, the sender of his school letter seemed to somehow know that he had gotten his first one as they hadn't sent another. The next few days were tense between everyone in the house and for once, Harry didn't try to emphasize the awkwardness.

One night, Harry had stood in the doorway and watched the Dursleys in the living room, all watching TV together. It was one of those days where Harry wondered how his life would have been like if his parents were still alive and he had his own family to live with, not the Dursleys.

"It's Monday," Dudley told his mother. "The Great Humberto's on tonight. I want to stay up tonight and watch the telly!"

Monday. This reminded Harry of something. If it was Monday, and you could usually count on Dudley to know the days the week, because of television, then tomorrow, Tuesday, was Harry's eleventh birthday. Of course, his birthdays were never exactly fun. Last year, the Dursleys had given him a coat hanger and a pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks.

Harry had been happy enough to make things weird for them and their '_lack of love to get him a decent present and not that wiry piece of shit coat hanger and smelly ass old sock._' Still, you weren't eleven every day.

That night, the predicted storm blew up around them and a fierce wind rattled the usually sparkling-clean windows. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon went off to their bedroom upstairs, and Harry was left to find something to do that didn't involve blowing something up.

The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Harry couldn't sleep. He shivered and turned over, trying to get comfortable, that night as he lied in his new bedroom. Dudley's snores, which usually echoed throughout the house at night, were thankfully drowned out by the low rolls of thunder that started near midnight.

The lighted numbers of Dudley's old digital clock, which was placed on the nightstand beside his bed, told Harry he'd be eleven in ten minutes' time. He lay and watched his birthday tick nearer, wondering if the Dursleys would remember at all, wondering whether or not his parents were silently wishing him a happy birthday from up in heaven.

Five minutes to go. Harry heard something creak outside. He hoped the roof was going to fall in, it would awesome. Unless he died of course, then that would kind of suck. Four minutes to go. Maybe the school sends someone to explain things to him since he hadn't really made an effort to find out anything about being a 'wizard.'

Three minutes to go. Was that the thunder, rattling hard on the houses foundation like that? And (two minutes to go) what was that funny noise? Was the ceiling really going to cave in on him? One minute to go and he'd be eleven.

Thirty seconds... Twenty... Ten... Nine - maybe he'd wake Dudley up, just to annoy him - three... Two... One... BOOM! The whole house shivered and Harry sat bolt upright, staring at the door to his bedroom. Someone was outside the house, knocking to come in.

'_This should be interesting._' Harry muttered to himself. '_Very, very interesting_.'


	3. Voldemort, Challenge Accepted

_Last Chapter: Thirty seconds... Twenty... Ten... Nine - maybe he'd wake Dudley up, just to annoy him - three... Two... One... BOOM! The whole house shivered and Harry sat bolt upright, staring at the door to his bedroom. Someone was outside the house, knocking to come in. _

'_This should be interesting.' Harry muttered to himself. 'Very, very interesting.'_

Chapter 3

BOOM! They knocked again. Apparently Dudley had jerked awake because Harry could hear him wailing in the next room over.

Harry jumped up and ran into the hallway the same time the Aunt Petunia and Dudley did. As they ran downstairs and stood in the living room facing the door, Harry couldn't help but say, "And why are we running towards the person banging on the door in the middle of a storm at midnight? Oh yeah, thanks for saying Happy Birthday, I can really feel the love."

There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands - now they knew what had been in the long, thin package he had brought home a few days after Harry had received his letter.

"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you…I'm armed!"

There was a pause. Then, SMASH! The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor. A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair.

Harry hated to admit it but his mouth was hanging open along with the Dursleys, the only difference was while they were probably thinking something along the lines of, "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Harry was thinking more like, "_Holy Shit, this is going to be awesome_!"

The giant squeezed his way into the house, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at them all.

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey..." He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear.

"Budge up, yeh great lump," said the stranger. Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.

"An' here's Harry!" said the giant. Harry looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile.

'_The giant man knows my name; if this wish came true I wonder what else I could wish up…_' Harry pondered to himself.

"Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby," said the giant. "Yeh look a lot like yeh dad, but yeh've got yeh mom's eyes." Harry couldn't help but tear up a little at the first time he had ever been compared to his parents.

Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise. "I demand that you leave at once, sir!" he said. "You are breaking and entering!"

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," said the giant; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room.

'_That was sooo cool, I wonder what else he can do and if he can attach those two rockets…._' Harry thought.

Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on.

"Anyway Harry," said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, "a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here. I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."

From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box. Harry opened it with trembling fingers. Inside the box was a large, sticky chocolate cake with _**Happy Birthday Harry**_ written on it in green icing. Harry looked up at the giant.

"Thank you very much. This is my first birthday cake ever." Harry said. He hid a smirk at the glare the giant sent the Dursleys. "But who are you, sir?"

'_Always be respectful to people who can bend shotguns into pretzel.'_ Harry thought, adding that rule to his mental rulebook.

The giant chuckled. "True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts." He held out an enormous hand and shook Harry's whole arm. "What about that tea then, eh?" he said, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it."

'_What would a drunken giant do?'_ Harry wondered. He ducked his head to hide his smirk.

When Harry looked up he saw the giant's eyes fall on the empty grate with plastic logs in it and he snorted. He bent down over the fireplace; they couldn't see what he was doing but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there. It filled the whole cold room with flickering light and Harry felt the warmth wash over him as though he'd sunk into a hot bath.

The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea.

Soon the house was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon said sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley." The giant chuckled darkly. "Yeh great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' anymore, Dursley, don' worry."

Harry couldn't hold in his snort and pointedly ignored the glare his aunt had sent his way, apparently his Uncle Vernon was back to trying to ignore his presence, as if he would allow that to happen.

He passed the sausages to Harry, who was always so hungry in the middle of the night he had never tasted anything so wonderful, but he still couldn't take his eyes off the giant.

'_Never take your eyes off of someone who could kill you with one blow.'_ Harry thought, adding another rule to his mental rulebook.

Finally, as nobody seemed about to explain anything, he said, "So I can assume that you are here to explain things about Hogwarts to me then, sir?"

The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Call me Hagrid," he said, "everyone does. Yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o'course."

Harry rolled his eyes, hadn't he just said that he didn't know anything about Hogwarts? "No, actually I don't know anything about Hogwarts; you can thank those bastards over there." Harry said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at the Dursleys.

Hagrid looked shocked.

"Oh. Sorry." Harry inserted, referring to his use of the word '_bastards_.'

Hagrid turned to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. "It's them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren't gettin' perfect treatment but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yet parents learned it all?"

"All what?" asked Harry. He hadn't missed that comment about Hagrid knowing about his _treatment._

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered. "Now wait jus' one second!"

He had leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole living room. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall. "Do you mean ter tell me," He growled at the Dursleys, "that this boy, this boy, knows nothin' abou'… about ANYTHING?"

Harry was hardly ever offended by anything but he was very sensitive about his intelligence, sure he wasn't a genius but his IQ was 132, which was very close.

"I know plenty of things," he said. "I can, you know, do math and stuff, and I can rig a rocket to burst into flames when the fuse runs out." Harry added as an afterthought, that was one of his biggest achievements, to him at least.

But Hagrid simply waved his hand and said, "About our world, I mean, your world, my world, Yeh parents' world."

"And what world would that be?" Harry asked innocently, knowing the reaction Hagrid would have.

Hagrid looked as if he was about to explode.

"DURSLEY!" he boomed. Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like "Mimblewimble." Hagrid stared wildly at Harry. "But yeh must know about yet mom and dad," he said. "I mean, they're famous. You're famous."

"Famous? Why are my parents and I famous?" Harry asked, genuinely curious this time.

"Yeh don' know... Yeh don' know..." Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing Harry with a bewildered stare. "Yeh don' know what yeh are?" he said finally. Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice. "Stop!" he commanded. "Stop right there, sir! I forbid you to tell the boy anything!"

A braver man than Vernon Dursley would have quailed under the furious look Hagrid now gave him; when Hagrid spoke, his every syllable trembled with rage. "You never told him? Never told him what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer him? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from him all these years?"

"The Dursleys tried to keep a lot of things from me; you're going to have to be specific." Harry said. He shot the Dursleys a smirk when Hagrid wasn't looking.

"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yelled Uncle Vernon in panic. Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror.

"Ah, go boil yet heads, both of yeh," said Hagrid. "Harry, yeh a wizard."

Harry snorted and said, "That's the secret? I kinda figured that part out when I got my Hogwarts letter."

"An' a thumpin' good'un yeh'll be, I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be? An' I reckon its abou' time yeh read yeh letter."

'_So mum and dad were apparently smart and powerful? Well, I'll just have to make sure to follow behind them as a great wizard. I mean, how I could I not be great? I like to think I was born for greatness.'_ Harry thought smugly to himself.

"I already read my letter; here it's in my pocket." Harry said. He pulled the letter which was crinkled from being read and refolded so many times, out of his pocket and held it up for Hagrid to see.

It read:

_**HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY **_

_**Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE**_

_**(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chf. Warlock, **_

_**Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)**_

_**Dear Mr. Potter, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. **_

_**Yours sincerely, **_

_**Minerva McGonagall, **_

_**Deputy Headmistress**_

Harry realized that this was what he had been waiting for, the chance to ask all of his questions. He looked up at Hagrid, though he was standing while Hagrid was sitting, and said, "So, what do they mean by 'they await my owl?'

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," said Hagrid, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl… a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl, a long quill, and a roll of parchment. Harry grimaced and sincerely hoped that there wasn't another living thing stuck in there, for the animal's sake.

With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note that Harry could read upside down:

_**Dear Professor Dumbledore, **_

_**Given Harry his letter. Am taking him to buy his school things tomorrow. **_

_**Weather's horrible. Hope you're well.**_

Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the window, and threw the owl out into the storm. Then he came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone.

Harry liked the fact that letter was short and to the point but he grimaced as he realized that owls were the way wizards communicated. How archaic was that?

"Where was I?" said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.

"He's not going," he said. Hagrid grunted. "I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop him," he said.

Harry childishly stuck his tongue out at Uncle Vernon and said, "Yeah you Muggle, try and stop me." Before turning to Hagrid and saying, "Err, what's a Muggle?"

"A Muggle," said Hagrid, "it's what we call non-magic folk like them. An' it's your bad luck you grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on." Harry nodded sympathetically.

"We swore when we took him in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," said Uncle Vernon, "swore we'd stamp it out of him! Wizard, indeed!"

"So you knew I was a wizard this whole time, yet you never told me and you even called me a freak every day? Why am I not surprised?" Harry muttered that last part to himself. He knew the Dursleys were bastards but to hide practically his whole heritage from him was low, but apparently not too low for them.

"Knew!" shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly.

"Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that-that school and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was… a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!" She stopped to draw a deep breath and then tried to continue but Harry cut her off.

Harry's voice had gained a cold edge and Petunia instantly deflated at the sound. "Shut up, just shut up right now! You have no right to call anyone else a freak, look at yourself and your own family! You're just jealous, that much was obvious since I was little. You're a bit old to be holding on to some stupid grudge but I guess you never grew up. You need to get over yourself and if I ever hear you insult my mother's memory ever again, you won't like the results. That much I can guarantee." By this point, Harry's hands were clenched into tight fists and he was staring angrily at the floor.

Apparently, Aunt Petunia was at her lowest mental capacity today and tried to get in the last words. "Too bad she went and got herself blown up, and we got landed with you!"

Harry had gone white as soon as he had heard this and he had to use all of his mental and physical strength to not attack his aunt. As he spoke, his every word was layered with ice.

"Blown up? You bloody bastards told me they died in a car crash!" Harry said.

"CAR CRASH!" roared Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys scuttled back to their corner. "How could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal! Harry Potter not knowin' his own story when every kid in our world knows his name!"

"Why would every kid in our world know my name? Hagrid, you have to tell me what happened?" Harry pleaded.

The anger faded from Hagrid's face. He looked suddenly anxious.

"I never expected this," he said, in a low, worried voice. "I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin' hold of yeh, how much yeh didn't know." Harry made a mental note to remember that Headmaster Dumbledore had suspicions about his life here but never acted on them.

"Ah, Harry, I don' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh - but someone's gotta - yeh can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin'." He threw a dirty look at the Dursleys. "Well, its best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh, mind, I can't tell yeh everythin', it's a great mystery, parts of it..."

He sat down, stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then said, "It begins, I suppose, with - with a person called - but its incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows…"

Harry rolled his eyes discreetly. Honestly, who was scared of a name? This person must have done some serious damage for someone as strong as Hagrid to be afraid of just his bloody name.

"Well, I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does. "Hagrid replied.

"Well, why not?" Harry asked; just to get confirmation on his thoughts.

"Gulpin' gargoyles, Harry, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went... bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was..." Hagrid gulped, but no words came out.

Harry was suddenly apprehensive, Hagrid seemed seriously afraid of this guy, whoever he was, and that couldn't be good.

"Could you write it down?" Harry suggested.

"Nah -can't spell it. All right… Voldemort." Hagrid shuddered, while Harry resisted the urge to snort. Wasn't a Voldemort a French pastry? No wait that was a Vol-au-vent. Harry shook away his amusing thoughts and paid attention to Hagrid's tale.

"Don' make me say it again. Anyway, this- this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin' fer followers. Got 'em, too - some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, 'cause he was gettin' himself power, all right. Dark days, Harry. Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches... Terrible things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course, some stood up to him - an' he killed 'em, horribly."

"One o' the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not just' then, anyway. Now, yeh mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the mystery is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before? Probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin' ter do with the Dark Side."

"Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em... Maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You were just a year old. He came ter yeh house an'… an'…" Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn.

"Sorry," he said. "But it's that sad - knew yeh mum an' dad, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find -anyway...You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then - an' this is the real mystery of the thing - he tried to kill you, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But he couldn't do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yeh forehead?"

Harry pushed back his bang and touched the scar that he had like so much.

"That was no ordinary cut. That's what yeh get when a Powerful, evil curse touches yeh - took care of yeh mum an' dad an' yeh house, even - but it didn't work on you, an' that's why yeh famous, Harry. No one ever lived after he decided ter kill 'em, no one except you, an' he'd killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age; the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts - an' you were only a baby, an' you lived."

Something very painful was going on in Harry's mind. As Hagrid's story came to a close, he saw again the blinding flash of green light, more clearly than he had ever remembered it before, and he remembered something else, for the first time in his life: a high, cold, cruel laugh.

Harry once again clenched his fist and he felt… tainted. He felt as though he had been touched by something disgusting, and he had. He had been touched by death. Harry had noticed that Hagrid hadn't mentioned what had happened to Voldemort since that night. Harry just knew that if he was still alive, out there somewhere, then his very life was in danger.

Hagrid was watching him sadly. "Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yeh ter this lot..." That snapped Harry right out of his thoughts and looked intently at Hagrid, who squirmed and avoided looking into those large green eyes.

"Wait, Headmaster Dumbledore placed me here?" Harry demanded, Hagrid looked at a loss for words but nodded.

"Load of old tosh," said Uncle Vernon. Harry didn't jump because he had made it a habit to know where everyone was in any room he entered; however, he had almost forgotten that the Dursleys were there. Uncle Vernon certainly seemed to have got back his courage. He was glaring at Hagrid and his fists were clenched.

"Now, you listen here, boy," he snarled, "I accept there's something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured, and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdoes, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion. Asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types; just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end…"

Harry opened his mouth to tear into Uncle Vernon but Hagrid beat him to it. Hagrid leapt from the sofa and drew a battered pink umbrella from inside his coat. Pointing this at Uncle Vernon like a sword, he said, "I'm warning you, Dursley, I'm warning you, just one more word..."

In danger of being speared on the end of an umbrella by a bearded giant, Uncle Vernon's courage failed again; he flattened himself against the wall and fell silent.

"That's better," said Hagrid, breathing heavily and sitting back down on the sofa, which this time sagged right down to the floor.

Meanwhile, Harry decided to ask some more questions in order to not physically attack all three of his relatives.

"So what happened to Volde…"

"Don't say his name!" Hagrid hissed.

"Honestly Hagrid, while I understand that it was a terrifying time for our world, fearing his name isn't going to do anything but give _**Voldemort**_,"Hagrid flinched, "more power."

"Jus' like Dumbledore yeh are Harry, great man he is." Hagrid said. Harry wrinkled his nose and hoped that he wasn't the kind of person who would leave a defenseless baby boy with people like the Dursleys but he continued.

"Anyway, what happened to _**Voldemort**_?" Harry asked, dutifully ignoring Hagrid's second flinch.

"Good question, Harry. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That's the biggest mystery, see... He was gettin' more an' more powerful - why'd he go?"

Harry inwardly groaned, he sincerely hoped that the wizarding world didn't expect him to be all chivalrous and heroic because he was certainly not. There were going to be a lot of disappointed people in about a month.

He'd save his own skin first and foremost, but if he was feeling nice he'd try to help someone else. However, Harry prided himself on helping the defenseless, but a world filled with fully grown and trained witches and wizards weren't defenseless, they were lazy and stupid, especially if they thought he'd fight Voldemort again someday.

"Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don' believe it. People who were on his side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Don' reckon they could've done if he was comin' back. Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you finished him, Harry. There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on. I dunno what it was, no one does - but somethin' about you stumped him, all right." Hagrid looked at Harry with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes, but Harry, instead of feeling pleased and proud, felt quite sure that he was screwed.

'_No, I won't accept that. I've made it my mission in life to ruin the lives of other people and there is no bloody way that I'm going to let some Dark Lord named after a freakin' French pastry off me and ruin my life's work. Fuck that. Voldemort, challenge accepted.' _Harry said with anticipation. He was going to train his ass off and then kick Voldemort's ass, even if he had to stop annoying people (momentarily of course), to do it.

"Are you sure it's me though, and not some other Harry Potter?" Harry said as one last ditch attempt but to his disappointment Hagrid said, "Not a wizard, eh? Never made things happen when you were scared or angry?"

"Well yeah but, oh fine whatever." Harry finally said. He had to accept that he wasn't going to get out of this.

"See?" said Hagrid. "Harry Potter, not a wizard - you wait, you'll be right famous at Hogwarts."

But Uncle Vernon wasn't going to give in without a fight. "Haven't I told you he's not going?" he hissed. "He's going to Stonewall High and he'll be grateful for it. I don't know what's in those letters but he probably he needs all sorts of rubbish, spell books and wands and-"

"If he wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won't stop him," growled Hagrid. "Stop Lily an' James Potter's son goin' ter Hogwarts! Yeh mad. His name's been down ever since he was born. He's off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and he won't know himself. He'll be with youngsters of his own sort, fer a change, an' he'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had Albus Dumbled-"

Harry snorted, Headmaster Dumbledore couldn't be all that great if he had left Harry with the Dursleys and honestly expected him to live a healthy and happy life.

"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL to TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!" yelled Uncle Vernon. But he had finally gone too far.

"Ooh, this is gonna be good!" Harry said aloud, though Uncle Vernon and Hagrid hadn't heard him, Aunt Petunia had and she shot him a glare which had no affect on him.

Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head, "NEVER," he thundered, "INSULT ALBUS DUMBLEDORE IN FRONT OF ME!"He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley.

There was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, Harry saw a curly pig's tail poking through a hole in his trousers.

"Holy shit, he really has a pig's tail!" Harry said gleefully. He was rubbing his hands and a snigger escaped him before he fell to his knees clutching his side with laughter.

Uncle Vernon roared. Pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room, he cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door behind them. Hagrid looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard. "Shouldn't a lost my temper," he said ruefully, "but it didn't work anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway there wasn't much left ter do."

He cast a sideways look at Harry under his bushy eyebrows. "Be grateful if yeh didn't mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts," he said. "I'm Err, not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an' get yeh letters to yeh an' stuff ,one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job."

"Are you kidding? That was awesome of course I'm not going to say anything. But how come you're not allowed to use magic?" Harry asked now that he had calmed down.

"Oh well, I was at Hogwarts meself but I erm, got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore."

"Why were you expelled?"

"It's gettin' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow," said Hagrid loudly. "Gotta get up ter town; get all yeh books an' that."

'_Yeah, real subtle Hagrid_.' Harry thought with another roll of his eyes. Nevertheless, he allowed Hagrid to change the subject.

"I'll sleep down here tonight." Harry offered. Truthfully, he was simply too tired and lazy to even contemplate going all the way back upstairs to his room.

Hagrid threw Harry his overlarge coat and said, "You can kip under that. Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets."


	4. Harry: 1, Dumbledore: 0

_Last Chapter: Hagrid threw Harry his overlarge coat and said, "You can kip under that. Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets." _

Chapter Four

For the first time in his life, Harry woke early the next morning. Although he could tell it was daylight, he kept his eyes shut tight.

"I hope it wasn't a dream, the blackmail material alone is worth the hassle of getting up at this ungodly hour." He muttered to himself.

There was suddenly a loud tapping noise. _'That bitch had better not be tapping on my door… wait, didn't I sleep downstairs last night?' _Harry thought.

But he still didn't open his eyes. '_Will not get up…_' Harry said to himself, preparing to roll over and return to his wonderful dreams full of fire and explosions.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"All right, damn it" Harry growled, "I'm getting up." He sat up and Hagrid's heavy coat fell off him. The living room was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was asleep on the collapsed sofa, and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak.

Harry slowly climbed to his feet, so annoyed he felt as if a fly was buzzing around his head. He idly scratched his stomach as he stumbled over to the window and jerked it open.

"Stupid ass owl…" Harry muttered. It must've understood him as it forcefully pecked his hand on the way into the house. Harry let out a curse and batted the owl away before sitting on the thick carpet floor.

The owl dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who didn't wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to attack Hagrid's coat.

"Shit, don't do that you idiot, that's destruction of private property which is illegal." Harry said irritably. Harry tried to wave the owl out of the way, but it snapped its beak fiercely at him and carried on savaging the coat.

"Well damn, it's not my coat." Harry said, giving up. He decided on nudging Hagrid's head with his toe and saying, "Hagrid! There's an owl"

"Pay him…" Hagrid muttered. Harry stared at the sleeping giant incredulously. "You want me to pay that beast!" He exclaimed.

"He wants payin' fer deliverin' the paper. Look in the pockets."

"Ah shit…" Harry groaned. Hagrid's coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets- bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, teabags... Finally, Harry pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins.

"Give him five Knuts," said Hagrid sleepily.

"I only have two and I want those very much attached to my body, thanks." Harry replied sarcastically. Apparently, Harry's sarcasm went over the giant's head as he simply said, "The little bronze ones."

Harry counted out five little bronze coins, and the owl held out his leg so Harry could put the money in to a small leather pouch tied to it. Then he flew off through the open window.

Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched. "Best be off, Harry, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' buy all yeh stuff fer school." Harry rolled his eyes and thought, '_If he was getting up anyway, why couldn't he have paid that wretched animal?_'

Harry turned over the wizard coins and looked at them. He had just thought of something that made him sigh with annoyance and say, "Soo Hagrid, who's giving me the money to buy my school supplies?"

"Don't worry about that," said Hagrid, standing up and scratching his head. "D'yeh think yeh parents didn't leave yeh anything?"

"So, we have to stop at a bank or something?" Harry asked quickly.

"They didn' keep their gold in the house, boy!" Harry narrowed his eyes and thought, '_I never said they did, obviously. I wish he wouldn't call me boy, I hate that shit._'

"Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank. Have a sausage, they're not bad cold, an' I wouldn' say no to a bit o' yeh birthday cake, neither."

Harry rolled his eyes and said, "Who runs the bank?"

"Run by goblins." Harry almost dropped the bit of sausage he was holding.

"Goblins?"

"Yeah, so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins, Harry." Harry ignored that part, he was currently thinking of the best way to find out the things they could do for him.

"Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want to keep safe… 'Cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter of fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." Hagrid drew himself up proudly. Harry restrained himself from rolling his eyes again.

'_Yes, it was a real good idea to tell an eleven year old that you have secret business, especially someone like me' _Harry thought.

"He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin' you, gettin' things from Gringotts… knows he can trust me, see."

'_Yup, he can trust you to tell a child all of his business._' Harry thought, making a mental note to never entrust a secret to Hagrid.

"Got everythin'? Come on, then." Harry followed Hagrid out onto the porch. The sky was quite clear now and the windows of various houses gleamed in the sunlight.

"How did you get here?" Harry asked, looking around for an unfamiliar car.

"Flew," said Hagrid.

"Flew, you flew here?" Harry asked disbelievingly.

"Yeah, but not supposed ter use magic now I've got yeh." Hagrid said. Harry was still staring at him, trying to imagine the large man flying.

"Why aren't you allowed to use magic now that you got me?" Harry asked.

Hagrid, unthinkingly answered, "Fer sum reason, Dumbledore doesn't want yeh to know much 'bout magic before yeh get to Hogwarts." Then, his eyes widened and he looked at Harry as if he had said too much.

Harry pretended he hadn't heard that but inwardly he was thinking, '_Why doesn't the Headmaster want me to know a lot about magic before I get there? I already have reason to avoid him but this just gives me more reason._'

At Hagrid's prompting, they began to walk away from Privet Drive and toward downtown, though it'd be a far walk.

"Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?" Harry asked, trying to change the subject.

"Spells, enchantments," said Hagrid, unfolding his newspaper as he spoke. "They say there are dragons guardin' the high security vaults. And then yeh gotta find yeh way, Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh'd die of hunger tryin' ter get out; even if yeh did manage ter get yeh hands on summat."

Harry mentally rubbed his hands together and chuckled evilly, now he simply _had _to talk to these goblins. Maybe he could open a new vault to store all of his explosives and such…

Harry had learned from Uncle Vernon that people liked to be left alone while they did this, but it was very difficult, he hated silence and Hagrid was no fun to annoy, not as much as the Dursleys anyway.

"Ministry o' Magic messin' things up as usual," Hagrid muttered, turning the page. '_Great, the government sucks enough for it to be in the newspaper._' Harry thought.

For Hagrid's benefit, Harry asked aloud, "There's a Ministry of Magic?"

"'Course," said Hagrid. "They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, of course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin' fer advice."

'_Then doesn't Fudge quit, or the Ministry proposes a vote of No Confidence?_' Harry asked himself. He had a feeling Hagrid wouldn't have the answers he was looking for.

"What does a Ministry of Magic do?" Harry asked aloud.

"Well, their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there are still witches an' wizards up an' down the country." Hagrid explained.

"They'd all want magical solutions to their problems, Muggles would attack out of fear and jealously, just like back in the Salem witch trials." Harry finished.

"Exactly," Hagrid said. Hagrid folded up his newspaper, and they strolled up the stone steps onto the street. Passersby stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station. Harry couldn't blame them, if he was one of them, he'd probably point as well.

Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things like parking meters and saying loudly, "See that, Harry? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?"

"Way to be inconspicuous, Hagrid." Harry muttered under his breath. As they walked, Harry let his mind wander to thoughts of the new types of mayhem and chaos he could cause with magic literally at his fingertips.

Suddenly, "Hagrid," said Harry, panting a bit as he ran to keep up, "did you say there are dragons at Gringotts?" Oh, the things he could do with a dragon. Harry wondered if he could raise one as a pet…

"Well, so they say," said Hagrid. "Crikey, I'd like a dragon."

"You'd like one? So would I!" Harry exclaimed excitedly.

"Wanted one ever since I was a kid… here we go." They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minutes' time. Hagrid, who didn't understand "Muggle money," as he called it, gave the bills to Harry so he could buy their tickets.

Harry once again wondered why Dumbledore would send someone so ill prepared to venture into the Muggle world, to pick up someone new as well as famous.

People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent. "Still got yeh letter, Harry?" he asked as he counted stitches. Harry took the parchment envelope out of his pocket. "Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything yeh need."

Even though he had already read the supply list, Harry removed the list anyway and went over it. It read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL _of _WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags.

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_

By Miranda Goshawk

_A History of Magic_

_By Bathilda Bagshot_

_Magical Theory _

_By Adalbert Waffling_

_A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_

_By Emeric Switch_

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_

_By Phyllida Spore_

_Magical Drafts and Potions_

_By Arsenius Jigger_

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_

_By Newt Scamander_

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_

_By Quentin Trimble_

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS

ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK

Yours sincerely,

Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus

Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions

"I'm assuming there is some hidden magical shopping center then?" Harry asked as he looked up from his letter.

"If yeh know where to go," said Hagrid.

Harry had never been to London before, at least as far as the Dursleys were concerned he hadn't been. On his free time however, let's just say that Harry had to buy _special_ fireworks from someone. He knew a guy.

Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. This, in Harry's opinion, was another reason why Dumbledore should've sent someone more equipped and prepared to pick him up

Hagrid got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the train too slow.

'_Yeah Hagrid, real subtle._' Harry thought to himself with a sigh.

"I don't know how the Muggles manage without magic," he said as they climbed a broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops. Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily. To Harry's glee, all he had to do was keep close behind him and he wouldn't get jostled by the crowds.

They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it could sell you a magic wand. This was just an ordinary street full of ordinary people.

'_I wonder what would happen if the magical world was suddenly revealed to the muggles… would probably cause mass hysteria or something._' Harry thought. A dark smirk bloomed on his face and he didn't notice the frightened looks Hagrid was throwing him.

"This is it," said Hagrid, coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place." It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. Though, even if Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Harry would've noticed it there. He was practically smacked in the face with the ambient magic coming from that place.

It was amazing that the people hurrying by didn't glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Harry was positive that the muggles couldn't see the place.

'_It wouldn't be a hidden magic place if the muggle could see it, duh._' Harry thought.

At Hagrid's prompting, Harry followed the large man into the pub. For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender.

'_Man that guy looks like a toothless walnut._' Harry thought. He held in his snicker but could barely suppress the small grin that bloomed on his face.

The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

'_They send someone who frequents this pub enough that he has a usual? That means that Hagrid drinks more often than he should, especially considering he works near children. Oh Dumbledore, you old idiot._' Harry sighed to himself.

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business, " said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Harry's shoulder and making Harry's knees buckle.

"Shit Hagrid, a little gentler please." Harry muttered. It sounded extra loud though because all noise in the pub had ceased. Hagrid shot Harry an apologetic look.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Harry, "is this… can this be…?" Harry rolled his eyes at the dramatics and said, "Yes, my name is Harry Potter, can we go now?" This was ignored of course.

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter... What an honor." He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and seized his hand, tears in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back." Harry mentally groaned. Everyone was staring at him. He had been nice and quiet enough since Hagrid had picked him up but now it was time to show these people the real Harry Potter, not their image of a golden boy.

The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming. Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry found himself surrounded by a crowd of witches and wizards.

Harry hated to be crowded and he could feel his anger rising. Their attempts to touch him made him even angrier. Harry lost it when he saw Hagrid simply standing there smiling happily.

Harry's bright green eyes darkened until they were almost black and the room's temperature dropped significantly. He said in an icy tone that cut straight through the noise of the crowd, "Back the fuck away from me or else."

The silence that followed was one of shock and even fear. Everyone that had crowded him took large steps and stood there, staring at him with confusion and fear. Harry bowed his head and clenched his fist, anything to not hurt someone. He took a few deep breaths and as he calmed down, his eyes brightened back up and the temperature in the room heated up once more.

"Hagrid, I want to leave." Harry said lowly. Hagrid, wide-eyed, nodded and they moved through the crowd, only to stop in front a pale young man who made his way forward. Harry resisted the urge to groan but as soon as he was within an arm's length away from the man, he could practically see the darkness around him.

Instead of being afraid, Harry was intrigued. He studied the man and instantly noted that the nervousness, while in the man's stance, was absent in his eyes, it was fake.

"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p- pleased I am to meet you." Harry tilted his head so that Hagrid couldn't see his face and he smirked and winked at Quirrell. Harry's smirk widened as Quirrell's eyes quickly flashed red and then returned to their dull brown color. So he was right. During this quick and silent communication, both males seemed to have come to the conclusion to keep up an act around other.

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?" Harry asked, shifting back into his normal stance and giving off an innocently curious demeanor.

"D-Defense against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell. "N-not that you n-need it, eh P-P-Potter?" He laughed nervously.

"You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought. Harry was amazed that no one else noticed the subtle ways that showed that this was all an act. The stammers and twitches were obviously faked. Harry shook the professor's hand once more and flashed him a last smirk before walking away with Hagrid.

Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds. Hagrid grinned at Harry. "Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh… mind you, he's usually tremblin'. "

But Harry was not amused nor was he happy. He gave Hagrid a dead-serious look that had the giant fiddling with the sleeve of his mole-skin coat.

"Hagrid, I don't want that to happen whenever I go out in public. That wasn't fun or enjoyable! I was almost mobbed by people I don't even know! Fame might be fun for some people but I am not going to be some poster boy for the wizarding world! No more fans, no more mobs, alright?" Harry said sharply. Hagrid stared at him for a moment before nodding and looking away. Harry felt a tiny bit guilty about yelling at Hagrid but that was the only was he would understand.

Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can. "Three up... Two across…" he muttered. "Right, stand back, Harry." He seemed to have recovered from Harry's little blow up.

He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella. The brick he had touched quivered, it wriggled and in the middle, a small hole appeared. It grew wider and wider… a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley." Harry was amazed. Not by the sights but by the ambient magic that he could feel swirling through every inch of the Alley.

'_Wait, Diagon Alley… Diagonally… Diagon…Alley ooh, I get it. I wonder if they named it that on purpose…_' Harry thought, his mind wandering off as usual. Hagrid grinned at Harry's amazement, not knowing that he was amazed for a completely different reason.

They stepped through the archway. Harry looked quickly over his shoulder and saw the archway shrink instantly back into solid wall. The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop.

**Cauldrons - All Sizes - Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver - Self-Stirring - Collapsible,** said a sign hanging over them.

"Yeah, you'll be needin' one," said Hagrid, "but we gotta get yeh money first." Harry wished he could open himself up more, if only to feel the magic flow through him. No one else seemed aware of the _magic_ that was happening around them. It was intoxicating and Harry felt like he had drank more than a few pints of whiskey.

He turned his head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. As the magic swirled around him, everything seemed that much brighter.

A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragonliver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they're mad..." A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium - Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Harry's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Harry heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand - fastest ever - -"

A large and slightly sinister smile bloomed on Harry's face, '_I wonder how fast those things are, maybe if I attach a rocket to one… have to buy one…_' he thought.

There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon...

"Gringotts," said Hagrid. They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was –

'_Holy shit, it's Obi Wan!_' Harry thought giddily to himself. He had a goofy kind of smile on his face.

"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him.

The goblin was about a head shorter than Harry. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Harry noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Harry shrugged and bowed back, not missing the surprised look on the goblin's face.

Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed, _

_For those who take, but do not earn, _

_Must pay most dearly in their turn. _

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours, _

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

Harry shivered as he felt some type of magic wash over him as he read the sinister warning. "Like I said, Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," said Hagrid. A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors, Harry once again bowed back, getting the same reaction from the goblins as the first, and they were in a vast marble hall.

About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid and Harry made for the counter.

"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter's vault."

"Which vault, sir?" The goblin asked. Harry was confused; he assumed he'd just have the one. He looked up at Hagrid's panicked face and it clicked; this was most likely another thing that Dumbledore hadn't wanted him to know about before going to Hogwarts. Harry was starting to get suspicions but he'd need time to act on them

On top of being suspicious, Harry was getting angry. His headmaster had no right to try to hide things about his family from him. Harry smirked and thought, '_If I'm going to take on Voldemort, I might as well add Dumbledore to the list. Dumbledore, I'm going to be the biggest pain in the ass you've ever had. It's on, starting now.'_

"I'd like to know about my other vaults please, as I wasn't informed of them until now." Harry asked the goblin directly and politely. Hagrid looked nervous but Harry no longer cared much for the giant.

"I don' know if yeh have enough time fer that 'Arry. We have ter get yeh things fer school and I have business ter attend ter fer Dumbledore." Hagrid said hurriedly. Harry rolled his eyes, and action that was mirrored by the goblin, they shared a smirk. Harry looked up at Hagrid with wide innocent eyes and said, "But Hagrid, this is my first chance to learn something about my parents, I'd be really quick, please?"

Hagrid's face softened and he nodded. '_Harry: 1, Dumbledore: 0_'Harry thought with a smirk. "I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."

Harry rolled his eyes again. '_Very un-suspicious Hagrid, really._' He thought sarcastically.

The goblin read the letter carefully. "Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have someone take you down to that vault, while I speak to Mr. Potter. Griphook!" Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, he waved to Harry and followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall.

Once they were gone, Harry couldn't help but ask, "What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?"

"Top secret business Mr. Potter, not that you'd know that by the way that oaf was acting." The goblin said sharply. "Follow me, please." Harry followed the goblin around the long counter and through one of the many doors that adorned the walls.

In the hall they walked through, they passed many other witches, wizards, and goblins going about their business. Because Harry had taken to encouraging his hair to grow in order to annoy the Dursleys, no one spotted his scar through his messy black locks.

The hallway was long and brightly lit, revealing _moving_ portraits of ancient looking goblins. "Are those portraits moving?" Harry asked, clearly amazed.

"Yes Mr. Potter, in the wizarding world, any magical being can have magical artist paint a portrait of them and imprint their essence into the painting. After that being dies, their portrait is activated and people may interact with them. The portrait would have all of the memories of that person up until their death, and it would even have the same personality, but it would **not** be that person." the goblin said, trying to emphasize that distinction. Harry nodded; he understood that bit and wondered if his parents had made any portraits of themselves.

They stopped in front of a glossy wooden door with a brass plaque on it that read: Potter. Harry had the strongest urge to reach up and trace the letters with his forefinger, so he did. As he did that, he felt a tingle run through his hand and the door swung open.

Harry looked down at the goblin and saw that it was giving him a queer look. "What?" Harry asked. The goblin shook his head and said, "All of your ancestors, right down to your father has done that on their first visit here, it is odd."

Harry shrugged and followed the goblin into the dark room, as soon as he stepped in, the room lit up and the door closed behind him. The room itself was average sized with no windows. The walls on either side of the room were covered by large bookshelves that were filled with books.

There was a thick sapphire and silver carpet on the floor, and dark polished wood furniture around the room. The goblin sat behind the desk facing the door, while Harry sat in a padded chair in front of him.

The goblin reached into the desk and pulled out a rather thick book with a crest on it. From what Harry could see upside down, the crest was of a scene. The scene seemed to be a dark forest with a waterfall in a clearing. Sitting with her legs in the water, was a girl. Her skin seemed to glow silver yet her hair and clothes were a glowing sapphire. She was beautiful, but what took Harry's breath away were the wings sprouting from her back. They were also silver and sapphire, but they seemed to shimmer with hidden colors. Under this picture were the words: _**omnes**____**magicae**____**est**____**forma**_

"What is that?" Harry asked; awe clearly evident in his voice.

"That is your family crest, usually families use a magical creature of some sort for their crests but your family was always unusual. Actually, your great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather changed the previous crest to this one." The goblin explained. Harry soaked up the information on his family like a sponge.

"What do the words mean?" Harry asked.

"They translate from Latin, _**All Magic is Beauty**_. I'll let you in on a little known secret," the goblin whispered, "the world thinks that your family absolutely despises dark magic, but I bet that if you find your family grimoire, you'll see differently."

Harry was a bit confused but he pushed that aside, it was time to get down to business.


End file.
